Frau Heinecke. A count! What sort of a count? Robert. A friend of mine, Mother, to whom I am under great obligation. Auguste. (_Softly to_ Michalski) He pretends to have a count for a friend! Frau Heinecke. Wait, I'll put the flowers in water. But you oughtn't to have been so harsh with Wilhelm, Bobby! He's a good friend of ours. Auguste. Us common folks don't have counts for friends! Michalski. We have to be contented with servants! Frau Heinecke. Yes, you must be nice to Wilhelm, Robert, for our sakes; he can do a lot for us! How many pieces of roasts and how many bottles of wine has he slipped us! Robert. And you accepted them, Mother? Frau Heinecke. Why not, my boy! We're poor folks--we ought to be glad to get things like that for nothing! Robert. Mother, I'll double my efforts; I'll give you what I can spare for my bare living expenses. But promise me you won't take anything more from that servant, will you? Frau Heinecke. Oh, that would be foolish pride and waste! You should not look a gift-horse in the mouth! And he only wanted to do you a favor, when he told you that about the Gnadiges Fraulein! That's something special! Whenever I met her in the court, there wasn't a single time when she didn't stop me and ask if there was any news from you, and how you got on with the hot weather and all! And at the same time she smiled so friendly--if you were a smart boy, Robert---- Robert. For heaven's sake. Mother, stop! Heinecke. That wouldn't be so bad--two millions! Michalski. Would you lend me a little then, eh, Brother-in-law? Robert. (_To himself_) How much longer must I be tortured? (Alma _appears at the half-open door. She wears a yellow jacket and a coquettish little hat. She wears suede gloves and many bracelets. She carries a fancy parasol._) Alma. Good morning, everybody. Robert. (_Runs to her and embraces her_) Alma! Thank God! Michalski. (_To_ Auguste) The two swells of the family! Auguste. (_Lovingly_) Listen: little sister, if you were as ugly as you are pretty, you wouldn't take long to find out that your brother hated you. Alma. Auguste, that's mean. Robert. Oh, she didn't mean anything. Now be good again! Alma. (_Affected_) My own dear brother! Auguste. (_Aside_) Lord, ain't it touching! (Frau Heinecke _helps_ Alma _off with her jacket._) Heinecke. Now what do you say? (_Stroking her cheek_) Are you my little treasure or not, eh? Alma. (_Trilling_) "Oui, cher papa! c'est Girofla!" Heinecke. Do you hear how she sings? Real Italian! Robert. Now what's this I hear: you want to be a great singer? Alma. Well, I'd not object to that! Frau Heinecke. Won't you cat a little piece of pound-cake, Alma? Alma. Merci beaucoup! (_Goes about in front of the mirror, eating_) Robert. And you are studying hard?